


Promises

by AParisianShakespearean



Series: Dragon Age One Shots [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fantasy, Female Masturbation, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Imagined sexual encounter, Masturbation, Promise of Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParisianShakespearean/pseuds/AParisianShakespearean
Summary: It is at the Winter Palace, and in Cullen's arms, the Inquisitor imagines what promises Cullen's kisses bring...





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, I think the promise of sex is sexier than sex :)

A thousand stars sprinkle the night sky as the Inquisitor takes the hand of her commander. From a melodious sound of lively violins now comes a softer, more lulling tune that Cullen takes as a perfect opportunity. There is a smug, but completely charming smirk on his face. Bowing slightly, he asks her if she would have this dance.

She can feel the palpitations of her heart as he places one hand on her lower back, and tightly grasps her other hand. Softly, they begin to sway. Perhaps they are not the most skilled dancers, and perhaps more than a few times they step on each other’s toes, but the Inquisitor has the feeling that there is no other couple on the floor as perfectly molded for their partner as she is with her commander. And for the first time all night, Cullen’s eyes are softer. Here now, nothing will happen to him. Not as long as she holds him.

Craning her neck, she steals a kiss. Though it is relatively chaste, lest someone come and see them, it is long and lingering and leaves her longing for more. More of him. Maker, more of him…

The music changes again. Much softer than before, and he pulls her closer. When their eyes lock, a thousand things are said between them, without a single word uttered. In Cullen’s eyes, she can see. She _knows_.

She knows that if they were anywhere else in the world, anywhere but under a thousand stars in the Winter Palace, Cullen would tightly grasp her hips, and even through the layers of clothing that separates them, she would gasp as she feels his hardness pressed into the juncture of her hip. He then would guide her, until she was pressed against a wall. He would seek friction, allowing some sort of relief until they can continue this somewhere else. It would be at this point that she would damn them all, damn whatever they would say, unlace his trousers and slide her palm down his length, as he snakes his fingers to her center and—

The fantasy stops as she bites her lip, trying to ease back her own arousal. She can see this exact scene in his eyes, and she wants so badly to make this fantasy a reality. They should stop this little game, this little dance between their eyes and promising looks, and allow themselves to give each other what they have been wanting since their eyes first locked all those months ago.

He knows what she wants. But instead of nodding, instead of telling her that tonight is the night, Cullen places a soft kiss to her neck. A promise. _Someday._

So, this dance will continue. As the Inquisitor holds onto him, she thinks that perhaps continuing their erotic waltz isn’t such a terrible thing. There is something sensual and electrifying in the promises his lips bring, the promises of things that will soon come between them. Though she admits, it is excruciatingly difficult to pull away from his goodnight kiss. Her hands grip his hair as she stands on her tiptoes to keep control of the kiss, deepening it until the only thing in the world is Cullen and her need for him. She reaches for him, when he at last pulls away. He chastely presses his lips to her forehead.

“Soon,” he whispers.

Slowly, she nods. “Soon.” But she takes his hand and pulls him back toward her anyway, keeping him where he is.

He smirks, once again, and kisses the palm of her hand. “Goodnight,” he murmurs.

When the door to her room closes, she leans against the door as a delighted cry escapes from her lips. She can still feel him everywhere, his hardness for her, the way his body swayed as they were dancing, and the way his hand gripped her back. Claiming her as his own. It was just how her hand on his neck as she gripped his hair was her own way of telling everyone that dared see the two of them, that he is hers.

She undresses and slips on her black silk nightgown, then slips into the large and fluffy duvet. She should be tired, after everything, but her mind is racing still. She is still there, under a thousand stars on the balconies of Halamshiral, in Cullen’s arms. It is now, that she imagines. She can see it now, their sensual and erotic dance continuing into her room. She can see his promise become a reality. He slips under the covers with her, and for a long moment, he only looks at her. There is a devilish smirk on his lips, a certain slyness in his eyes as a digit lightly traces the curve of her jawline, before the back of his hand lightly travels down her shoulder blade. Yes, she knows Cullen knows more about these things than he lets on. Things such as love, romance, a woman’s pleasure. She won’t want slow during their first time, but he will be a tease, making her wait until she is a mewling, whimpering mess.

Her fingers are a poor substitute for his own callused, strong, and masculine hand, but none the less her hand becomes his hand in the recess of her imagination. First one, and then the other, she sees Cullen push down the straps of her nightgown until her breasts are revealed. Fingertips create pathways on the soft space between, lightly tracing the curve. She arches her back in a demand for more, and he complies. Only just, but he complies, the pad of his finger lightly tracing her nipple. She hums at her own touch, thinking of how Cullen would chuckle, pleased by how even the lightest of his touches arouses her so. Then, she thinks with a grin, his warm, wet mouth would begin ravishing her breasts…

Her center is pooling. Unable to stand it any longer she shimmies out of her smalls. She spreads the wetness onto her clit and moans as she lightly teases herself. When she inserts her own finger she imagines that it is Cullen’s, smirking at her all the while as she moans before inserting another, further spreading her open. Her body practically quakes at the erotic image she conjures, one of him bringing his finger to her lips and tasting her, before he brings his finger to her own lips so she can taste her arousal. She does exactly that before her hand snakes down to her clit again, pressing harder now and planting her feet on the bed. She’s close. So close, and her fantasy changes. Now she is imagining his golden head, buried between her thighs as he laves at her clit. She is so close but she does not come yet, and it is only when she imagines Cullen in his room, stroking his length as he thinks of her that she pulls herself over, her body swallowing into the abyss.

Like lighting it hits her and she moans loudly, as loudly as she would if he were really there with her. She has not a care in the world about anyone hearing her loud and strangled cry of his name. Her body rides it out, relaxed and satiated. A very satisfied grin twitches on her lips. She can still feel his body pressed to hers, just as she can still feel his kisses, promising her of what will someday come between them as they danced. 

Someday soon.

She knows, someday soon. But, she thinks, maybe prolonging this dance can continue for a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Been stewing in my head for a while. Thought I'd share :)


End file.
